


Knit Two Together (k2tog)

by lookninjas



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Mentions of death and mourning (Kurt's mom). More angst than I thought there would be.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt teaches Blaine how to knit.  Blaine teaches Kurt...  Well, Blaine teaches Kurt a lot of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knit Two Together (k2tog)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://pushplaytobegin.livejournal.com/profile)[pushplaytobegin](http://pushplaytobegin.livejournal.com/) as part of my [prompt post](http://lookninjas.livejournal.com/139554.html); the prompt in question was _Five Times Blaine asked about something he found in Kurt's room, and one time he didn't._ I decided to take it in the fluffiest direction possible.
> 
> Which didn't stop it from turning seriously angsty in the middle. I do apologize for that. But otherwise, very fluffy.
> 
> For the record, both _Stitch and Bitch: The Happy Hooker_ and _DomiKNITrix_ are real books -- I own them both, and they're very good. And the "Valentine Candy Pillows" from _DomiKNITrix_ are surprisingly easy to make, as long as you don't try to fit the phrase _SERENADE ME_ on them. ( _COURAGE_ could totally work, though.) Also, the [sweater curse](http://knitty.com/ISSUEwinter02/FEATsweatercurse.html) is kind of a thing.

1.

He's not totally sure how he feels about letting Blaine into his room.

It's good. He thinks it's good. Mostly. Blaine's not like Finn or Mike or even Kurt's dad -- Kurt didn't have to tell him to take his shoes off or anything, and it doesn't look like he's about to knock anything over, which is comforting. And at least for right now, it doesn't look like Blaine's going to wreak any havoc; he's just drifting, admiring the uniformity of Kurt's color scheme, glancing at the bookshelves and offering little comments, curious but restrained. Kurt thinks he likes that.

Mostly.

He's maybe a little insecure about it, too. Because maybe Blaine's been looking around for a really long time now, and maybe Kurt's stating to feel kind of exposed. And maybe that's why he opens his mouth to say something (he's not sure what, yet -- a question about the Warblers or Dalton or something, or a casual mention of that production of _Rent_ that's about to open in Columbus, or maybe some jokingly flirtatious version of "Please sit down, you're making me nervous"), only to snap his mouth shut again when one of Blaine's wandering hands grazes an precariously-balanced shopping bag on Kurt's desk, and a ball of angora/merino blend yarn (hand-dyed dark crimson, perfect for Carole's coloring) bounces out onto the floor.

For a few seconds, Kurt and Blaine both just look at it, a bright spot of color in Kurt's aggressively minimalist room. It's deeply embarrassing; Kurt couldn't really say why.

Then Blaine laughs, and crouches down to pick it up. "Sorry," he says, grinning at Kurt. "Told you I was clumsy."

Kurt can't help but smile back, even as he's rolling his eyes. "Oh no," he deadpans. "You broke the yarn. Whatever will I do now."

"Oh hush," Blaine says, but his voice is a little absent and his fingers are still restlessly smoothing over the ball of yarn in his hands. "This is nice," he adds. "Can I ask what it's for, or is it a Secret Project?"

He actually says it with capital letters; Kurt can't help but find it somehow impressive. "Just a scarf," he says. "For Carole, for Christmas. I'll probably get her something else, too, but... She seems like she'd appreciate something homemade. And I owe her a lot, after everything she's done for me and Dad, so."

Blaine smiles at him, then goes sort of distant, still absently fondling the yarn in his hands. "That's cool, that you knit," he says. "Or... crochet, or whatever. Or both. If you do both."

"Just knitting," Kurt says, and it's a little weird, but he's kind of impressed that Blaine even knows the difference between knitting and crocheting. Most guys don't. "Crocheting's not... it's not really _for_ me."

"Oh," Blaine says, staring at the yarn. "But still. That's cool, that you can... My mom used to knit. Well, briefly. And by briefly, I mean for like a week. She kind of... she picks things up, and then she drops them again, you know? Bored suburban housewife syndrome, I guess."

It sounds bitter, surprisingly so considering that this is Blaine, and Kurt is grateful when Blaine sinks down on the bed next to him, still holding the yarn. "Actually, I was kind of excited when she started knitting," Blaine adds, glancing at Kurt quickly as if testing his response. He drops his eyes back down to the yarn again; Kurt has to wonder if he's gotten what he wanted or not. "I thought... you know, she could learn, and then she could teach me how, because I always kind of wanted to... But then she got frustrated and threw it all in the closet, so I guess it wasn't meant to be. Like you and crochet, you know? Me and knitting."

"Don't say that," Kurt says, scooting a little closer, bravely. He thinks about nudging Blaine's shoulder with his, but maybe it's too soon, so he doesn't. "You can still learn how. I could teach you."

"Yeah?" Blaine's face is suddenly happy, hopeful, a little embarrassed but pleased all the same -- Kurt wants to kiss it, but he doesn't.

Instead, he reaches out and plucks the yarn from Blaine's hands. "Not with this, though," he adds, and laughs as Blaine pouts. "Something that _doesn't_ cost fifteen dollars a skein."

"Anyway, that's for Carole's scarf," Blaine adds. "So it's Very Important Yarn."

"That it is," Kurt says. "But we'll find some important yarn for you too."

Blaine beams at him, and just like that, Kurt finds himself hopelessly, ridiculously in love with the idea of teaching Blaine how to knit.

 

2.

 

"That," Blaine says, "is a Pringles can."

Kurt almost bristles at that, and Blaine takes one look at him and backs off quickly. "Not that I... I mean, not that there's anything _wrong_ with storing your knitting needles in a Pringles can or anything; I didn't mean... I'm just surprised, you know. Since it's you, and you usually... I mean, I guess I thought it would be Burberry, or something. I guess I just --"

"Blaine," Kurt says, because it's hard to be angry at Blaine when he's babbling. "It's all right." He pats the bed next to him, and Blaine sits down gingerly, like he's actually afraid of Kurt. "Just... It was my mom's," he says. "Where she kept her needles and everything. And when she couldn't knit anymore, she gave it to me. And then I..." His breath catches, just a little bit, eyes welling up, and it's been eight years, but sometimes he thinks he'll never get over it.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine whispers, voice achingly sympathetic. His hand covers Kurt's on the bed, and Kurt has to wonder sometimes if Blaine is making it all up as he goes along or if he actually _knows_ what Kurt needs somehow. Because sometimes, it feels like Blaine _knows_.

"I thought about decoupaging it," Kurt admits, and Blaine squeezes his hand. "Last year, I thought about -- Because it doesn't really go with anything else, and it's been so long, and I thought maybe it was time to move on, to..." He wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, and Blaine scoots in a little bit closer. "But I couldn't do it. I just..."

Blaine's shoulder brushes up against Kurt's, and Kurt lets himself lean in just a little bit. "Then don't," he says. "Anyway, it's not like the design of the can itself is flawed. I mean, there's the subtle diagonal stripes on the silver background, you know, which is a nice textural statement, and --"

Kurt laughs and shoves Blaine away, just a little bit -- Blaine comes right back again, and it makes Kurt happy for a whole host of reasons that he's not quite ready to identify. "Blaine," he says, firmly. "It's a _Pringles can_."

"It's more than that," Blaine says, his face surprisingly serious when he looks at Kurt. "And I'm... Thank you, for teaching me how to knit. It's really cool that you're doing this for me. So thank you."

"You're welcome," Kurt says, and squeezes Blaine's hand, and smiles at him for a few seconds longer.

 

3.

 

Blaine frowns down at the Pringles can for a second, then reaches in and plucks out a metallic blue crochet hook. He holds it up, giving Kurt a look that's almost accusatory. "I thought you said you didn't crochet," he says.

He almost looks hurt; Kurt honestly can't think of why. "I said that crocheting wasn't _for_ me," he points out. "That doesn't mean that I didn't try it. Just that it was too hard and I gave up after, like, a day. But I'm allowed to try things, Blaine. I've got more than four sides to me."

"But you --" Blaine shakes his head. "I mean, come on, Kurt. You knit. Knitting is way harder than crochet. As I'm sure all my swatches will attest."

"Knitting is _not_ \--" Something about the way that Blaine said that, that knitting was harder, catches at Kurt just then, and he frowns. "Wait, you can crochet?"

Blaine actually blushes at that, ducking his head. "I mean, I can do a little," he mutters, staring down at the hook in his hands. "Mostly like granny squares and things. I keep thinking I should sew them together into an afghan -- I've got enough, or mostly enough, but I guess I just..."

" _Blaine_." Blaine gives him a little, guilty look, and Kurt wonders how it's possible for one human being to be so deeply puzzling. Seriously, there's so much about Blaine that Kurt just can't understand. "Why didn't you tell me you knew how to crochet? Seriously, if I knew you could be trusted around yarn, I wouldn't have had to go out and buy all that Red Heart, let alone --"

"Because knitters think crocheting is stupid, okay?" Blaine flushes deeper, and goes back to staring at his crochet hook. "I mean, everyone knows that. Even Jeff and _Nick_ think that..."

It's a terrible thing to do, but Kurt actually starts laughing; Blaine gives him a wounded look and scoots a little further away on the bed. "Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighs, shifting himself closer. "I don't think crocheting is stupid. It's just... it's hard. I couldn't figure it out."

Blaine looks up at him, bites his lip, looks down. Looks up again. "It's really not that hard," he says. "I mean, my great-grandmother taught me how when I was, like, five, so. And I'm not -- she could do it without looking, and I obviously can't do that, but it's still. It's pretty easy."

Kurt nudges closer; it's so rare for Blaine to talk about his family. Kurt wants him to keep going. "Did she crochet a lot?" he asks. "Your grandmother?"

"Four afghans a year," Blaine says, a little proudly. "One for her son, and then one for each of her grandchildren. We've got a closet that's, like, full of afghans. Every time my mom redecorates, she threatens to throw them all out, but Dad won't let her. He's still got the one Great-Grandma made for me when I was a baby. It's, like, tiny." Blaine smiles a little at the thought. "And purple, even though she always swore it was blue. I think the lighting must've been bad at the store or something, and then she couldn't admit that she got the wrong color. So she just said it was blue and hoped no one else would see the difference."

"That's adorable," Kurt says, shifting even closer. "So. You crochet."

Blaine nods. "Yeah," he says. "I'm a hooker. It's my deep, dark secret."

"Look," Kurt says. "I'm not going to tell you -- I mean, obviously, you don't owe me anything, for teaching you how to knit. So I don't want you to think that this would be... payback or anything. But I really did want to learn how to crochet, someday, even if it was just enough to finish an edge or do a provisional cast-on, so if you could maybe find it in your heart to --"

"I'd love to teach you to crochet, Kurt," Blaine says, suddenly beaming all over. "Hang on, let me just --" And before Kurt can say or do anything else, Blaine is digging in the Pringles can for another crochet hook.

 

4.

 

And maybe he's more upset by the Pavarotti thing than he thought he was, because as soon as he recognizes what he's pulled out of his old knitting basket, as soon as he _remembers_ , his breath is hitching in his chest and his eyes are flooding with tears and the only thing that makes this even remotely bearable is having Blaine there with him, there to wrap his arms around Kurt and rest his chin on Kurt's shoulder and whisper "Kurt, what is it?" in the warmest voice imaginable.

"It's a hat," Kurt says, because that's all he can think of to say. Then Blaine's cheek (a little stubbly, this late in the day) is brushing against Kurt's, and Kurt adds, "I made it for my mom. When she... When she was sick."

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine murmurs, and pulls Kurt tighter against his chest. Blaine is broad and warm and comforting, someone that Kurt can lean on, someone who will hold him up, and it makes it almost impossible for Kurt to be embarrassed about being this openly upset around him, so he doesn't bother trying.

"She hated her wigs," he says, because he might as well keep going, and Blaine presses his cheek against Kurt's; Kurt can feel the flutter of soft eyelashes when Blaine closes his eyes. "She said they were itchy, and she didn't want to wear them. But then the doctor had said that she'd die if she got sick, because her immune system -- He said even a cold could kill her. And I always thought that people got sick from walking around with their heads bare, because that was what people told me, and I couldn't make her wear her wigs or anything but I thought that if _I_ made her a hat, then she'd _have_ to..." His fingers tighten on the little, pointy hat on his lap, the one too small even for a baby, the one that would barely fit a doll, and Blaine kisses away a few stray tears. "I was so mad at myself when I gave it to her and she couldn't put it on. I felt like... Like I'd just..."

"It wasn't your fault," Blaine whispers, wrapping himself around Kurt, and it's funny, because Kurt usually can't stand to have anyone touch him when he's this upset, but somehow it's okay when it's Blaine. "Okay, Kurt? It's not your fault."

Kurt swallows hard, trying to blink back some of the tears. "I tried so hard," he says. "I always got the food the pet store recommended and I cleaned his cage every day and I made him that cover so he wouldn't get cold and I --" He chokes on the words, turning to bury his face in Blaine's shoulder, and it's awkward and his spine is twisted at an awkward angle, but Blaine holds him close and mutters soothing things into his hair, and that's all that really matters.

"It's not your fault," Blaine says, and Kurt cries into his sweater, and somehow he knows that it's going to be okay. Maybe not today, but someday.

 

5.

 

It is a sign of how comfortable he and Blaine have become that Kurt doesn't blush when Blaine picks Kurt's newest knitting book up off the desk and studies the cover with a raised eyebrow.

Okay, he blushes a little.

Okay, he blushes a lot but he doesn't run out of the room, which is saying something.

" _DomiKNITrix_ , Kurt?"

"What was that crocheting book you got for me?" Kurt asks, leaning over Blaine's shoulder as he starts to flip through the book. " _The Happy Hooker_?"

"It's a really good book!" Blaine says, but he only manages to sound halfway indignant. Apparently, he's too wrapped up in the section on grafting garter stitch to actually get mad, or to notice the piece of folded paper that's slipped from between the pages of Kurt's new book to land on the floor. Kurt manages to discreetly plant his foot on top of the paper and slide it delicately under the desk; he's still blushing now (for slightly different reasons), but he figures that Blaine will chalk it up to the book itself, and not what was hiding inside it. "And the patterns are great. I thought you said Tina loved that purse you made her."

"She did," Kurt says. "That's why she bought me this book. As a thank you."

Blaine looks up at Kurt over his shoulder, eyebrow still raised. "Uh-huh," he says, skeptically, and starts flipping through to the project pages. "And then _you'll_ thank her for thanking you by making her something else, probably from this book, and --" Blaine stops on a picture of two heart-shaped pillows, one bearing the words _BITE ME_ , the other bearing the words _SPANK ME_. "Okay, these are adorable."

It's Kurt's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Really, Blaine? They're not adorable. They're not even _supposed_ to be adorable. They're supposed to be kinky."

"Yeah, but they don't have to be." Blaine frowns down at the directions, flips back to something earlier in the book, flips forward again. "I mean, you could put anything on them. It doesn't have to be _Be Mine_ either; it could be... like, personalized."

Kurt laughs and pushes the piece of paper a little further under the desk, just to be on the safe side. "I think _SERENADE ME_ is a little too long to fit on a pillow, Blaine."

Blaine laughs, too. "All right, then," he says. "How about _MOVE ME_?"

"Hmm," Kurt says, because actually that might work, for what he's been thinking of. Not that he can admit it, not right now. Luckily for him, Blaine is easily distracted.

He leans in a little closer. "How about _KISS ME_?" he asks, just barely whispering the words into Blaine's ear.

He has just enough time to feel smug about Blaine's reaction before the book falls to the floor, _he_ is being pulled onto Blaine's lap, and he no longer quite remembers why he needed to be kissing Blaine, but he's not exactly the type to argue with a good thing. So he wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders, nudges Blaine's lips apart with his own, and proceeds to forget all about the book, the folded piece of paper, and anything that isn't this, because this is more than enough for now.

 

1.

 

He shouldn't have forgotten about that stupid piece of paper.

 

Actually, he should have. He should have forgotten all about it, all about boyfriend sweaters and boyfriend sweater _curses_ and anything to do with the idea of knitting something for Blaine this soon in their relationship. And he definitely, definitely, shouldn't have printed the whole stupid essay out, and he definitely definitely _definitely_ shouldn't have folded it up and stuck it in a book with the intriguing name of _DomiKNITrix_ , because then Blaine was sure to see it, and then he'd start wondering about the relationship, and how comfortable Kurt was with it, and --

"-- So I thought that maybe it'd be easier, and you'd feel better about everything, if I went first. You know, with the sweaters, and everything."

And while Kurt stands there, gaping unattractively and trying to catch up with what Blaine is telling him, Blaine reaches into his satchel and pulls out what appears to be a present. It's clumsily wrapped in paper decorated with multicolored balloons, and has a big red bow on it, and Kurt's still not totally sure what's going on, but he's pretty sure that _that_ is a present, albeit one with no apparent purpose. Unless... "Wait," he says, and pulls his hands back. "Wait. You knit me a sweater so the curse would hit _you_? So I would break up with you instead of you breaking up with me?"

"What?" Blaine's eyebrows draw together; he looks like he's either about to laugh or cry or do both at once. "No. _No._ Kurt, I don't want anyone to break up with anyone. And I don't want you to feel like... Like you'll push me away, or something, just by trying to give me something nice. I just... I mean, the article said that a lot of time guys freak out when you knit for them because it means that you're more into the relationship than they are, or whatever. So I wanted you to know that I'm not... That we're on the same page. In terms of sweaters. And everything." He hesitates for a second, looking suddenly nervous. "We... we _are_ on the same page. Aren't we?"

"Oh my _God_ , Blaine," Kurt says; he feels like he should say something else, but his brain has kind of shorted out, because Blaine made him a _sweater_. Not a scarf or a hat, but... "Oh my God, we are _so_ on the same page. Seriously, I can't believe you... This must have taken you so long!"

Which, in retrospect, is kind of insulting, but Blaine's pretty bulletproof; he doesn't even seem to notice. Actually, he smiles sheepishly, ducking his head. "I wanted to give it to you for your birthday," he mutters. "Hence the... uh, the paper. And everything. Mostly I'm just glad I finished it before Christmas. I had my doubts."

"Oh my _God_ , Blaine," Kurt says, and collapses on the bed because he just _can't_ right now with this boy. "This is... This is so perfect."

Blaine blinks at him. "Kurt, you haven't even opened it yet," he points out.

Kurt rolls his eyes and holds out his hands. "Fine," he says. "Give it here."

Somewhat predictably, Blaine pulls it back a little bit. "Although I did want to say... I mean, it really _isn't_ perfect, and I know you would have done a better job with the decreases and the grafting and... the ribbing on the collar was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, and I don't know how well I --"

" _Blaine_." Kurt waggles his fingers in what he hopes is a beckoning gesture. "It's okay. It's handmade. Slight imperfections are part of the finished product. Just... just give it to me, okay?"

"'Kay," Blaine mumbles, suddenly shy; he sits down next to Kurt and passes the package over.

Kurt strokes the wrapping paper with reverent hands, and takes a moment just to appreciate his life right now. Yes, the sweater will probably be a little wonky. And yes, it looks like it was wrapped by a five year-old. But it's not about the sweater; it's about Blaine _knitting_ the sweater. It's about him making it with his own two hands, struggling to remember when to SSK and when to k2tog, trying to make the grafts as invisible as he could and get the ribbing just right. It's about --

"Please just open it," Blaine says, twisting his hands together. "Seriously, Kurt, I --"

"I promise you," Kurt says, leaning in and kissing Blaine on the cheek. "It's already the best sweater ever."

And it is.


End file.
